Favorites
by Tshirtgun
Summary: Arthur and Merlin go for a walk through the lower town. Arthur gets cranky when the townsfolk seem to like Merlin more than him.


Author's Note: My first story did really well, so I figured I'd do another one. I'm having fun! This one is a bit silly, but it's got some nice bromance, too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of the associated characters. They belong to Shine and the BBC.

Prince Arthur of Camelot was quite possibly the most confident man in the kingdom. He was a future king, an accomplished warrior, and beloved by his people. He pretended not to hear, but he knew people whispered that he would be ten times the king his father was, and he already had big plans for ways to improve his kingdom, when it was indeed his. When he met the scrawny black-haired boy who would become his manservant, he was taken aback but slightly amused by the boy's lack of proper respect and awe. Once the boy saved the prince's life and was appointed as his servant, the two struck up an unlikely sort of friendship, and even though Merlin had moments of almost astounding idiocy, his cheerful demeanor and willingness to talk back were things Arthur came to greatly appreciate about him. The idea that other people probably appreciated Merlin, too, had never actually occurred to Arthur.

The day where everything changed was one of the first warm days of the year. The winter had been long and harsh, with snow that made Camelot look as if some giant had overturned his sugar dish right onto the city. It had made the training fields and the forests completely impassable, which meant no training, no hunting, and no horseback riding. The prince was an active sort, and had become quite irritable shortly after the winter had set in. Merlin had been admirably patient with him, doing his best to keep the prince from doing something in his irritation that he would regret, like shouting at servants or picking fights with Morgana.

But the winter was finally over, the snow was almost completely melted, and even though training and hunting were still out of the question (the snow had turned to viscous mud that sucked at boots and hooves), the prince was determined to get out of the castle. Merlin suggested a walk through the lower town, and Arthur agreed immediately. It would be very satisfying to walk among his people, basking in their adoration and inspiring them by the mere sight of his shining armor and wide, white smile.

Donning his jacket, he allowed Merlin to scurry off to get his own from Gaius' chambers, while the prince waited for him by the gate into the town. When Merlin came back, he was followed by a veritable crowd of children, who were all jabbering at him to do the 'magic' again. Arthur gaped at them, horrified by the idea that not only could his bumbling manservant be a sorcerer, but that he would be stupid enough to go around performing spells simply to entertain children.

"Alright, alright," said Merlin, "one more. But only one, Arthur is waiting for me!"

The prince watched, equal parts terrified and curious, as Merlin stopped and turned to face the children. He held one hand behind his back, and Arthur saw a silver coin fall from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand, out of view of the children.

"Tommy! Do you hear that!?" cried Merlin, making a show of glancing around at all the children.

"I don't heaw anyfing!" giggled one of the boys in the crowd.

"But you must hear it! I'm sure of it, that noise is coming from right behind your ear! It's kind of a jingling!" said Merlin, motioning for the child to come closer, "You're sure you don't hear it?"

"No! I don't heaw it, Merwin!"

"Wait, I see something back there! It's sort of a shiny something," Merlin peered closely at the child's ear, grinning widely, and reached up, deftly hiding the coin in his hand before pretending to pull it out from behind the child's ear. He smiled brilliantly and said triumphantly, "I told you so!"

The children laughed their heads off, and Arthur rolled his eyes. Typical. Merlin could get into all kinds of trouble calling tricks like that 'magic', but there he was, tossing coins, silver ones no less, at wandering children like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. And to think, for a second, he had thought it was possible that Merlin really _did_ have magic. Ridiculous. He watched as the children all hugged Merlin, and ran away toward the sweetshop, arguing over who the prince's manservant liked best.

"Well, Merlin," said the prince, stepping away from the wall he had been leaning against, "if you're unhappy being my manservant, I can always have you reassigned to be a schoolmarm."

"Hilarious," said Merlin dryly, rolling his eyes at Arthur.

"No? Then what about nursemaid?"

Merlin tried to suppress a grin.

"Hmm... tavern wench?"

At that, Merlin burst out laughing, joined by the prince.

"Those children follow me everywhere," said Merlin as they passed through the gate, "four times a day, I swear, those rugrats are begging me to do the 'magic tricks'."

"You shouldn't really let them call it that, you know," said Arthur, in a tone somewhere between anxious and scolding.

"I don't _let_ them do anything," protested Merlin, "They're not _my_ children! I've told them not to call it that but they don't listen. I've long since given up."

"Yes, well, I suppose it's obvious to any adult in the area that it's not _really_ magic, but still -"

Arthur was cut off as they entered the lower town and were greeted by a couple of women who he thought worked in the castle laundry. Expecting to be fawned over a bit, Arthur smiled indulgently. He was surprised when the women began to fuss over _Merlin_, flattening his messy hair and straightening his jacket. Both women spent the next few minutes _insisting_ that his manservant join their families for dinner anytime he liked, and clucking over the state of his clothes and boots. They only seemed to notice Arthur after he coughed slightly, at which point they quieted down hastily and gave him little curtsies and murmured 'Your Highness' before they wandered back off down the street.

The prince was a bit bemused. Obviously Merlin was familiar with these women, but for them to be so interested in the manservant and so _un_interested in the prince, they must think the boy was really something special. Well, alright, he could admit that Merlin had his own awkward brand of charm, and he _did_ have the kind of appearance that seemed to attract mothering. It was actually kind of sweet, if he thought about it. He was glad Merlin was taken care of, and his princely nature would not allow him to stoop to being childishly jealous that he had no one to mother him.

They moved off down the street, Arthur's confident smile and noble demeanor firmly in place. He nodded and waved at people, who seemed to be waving back, though all of their eyes were directed toward Merlin for at least part of the waves. By the time they came up to the sweetshop, Arthur was beginning to suspect that they were waving at _Merlin_, and that he was more of an afterthought than anything else.

The sweetshop owner seemed to have been watching for Merlin, because he came bustling out his door, smelling of peppermint and sugar, as soon as they came in view of the place. He was carrying a rather large handful of candies, and when they drew closer to him, he came hurrying up to the manservant, clapping him on the shoulder and practically shoving the candy into his hands.

"Really, Bartholomew, you don't need to-" Merlin was interrupted by a hearty clap to his shoulder, which nearly knocked him over, and he scrambled to hold onto the candies while also keeping his feet on the ground.

"Nonsense, Merlin!" boomed Bartholomew, "You send more business to me than anyone in the kingdom, with your silly 'magic tricks'! Those children are here at all hours buying candy, and I'm grateful. You know their parents could never spare the coin. Poor rascals would never have a drop of sugar if it weren't for you, and that's no way to grow up."

"Alright, alright, I'll take them" nodded Merlin, smiling, "they _are_ my favorites after all."

"There's a good lad," said the man, ruffling Merlin's hair, effectively destroying the work of the laundry ladies. "Got to run, shop won't watch itself! Afternoon, Merlin. Sire."

The man bowed respectfully to Arthur and hastened back to his shop. Arthur was starting to feel vaguely annoyed. How was it that he went for a stroll through _his_ city, in _his_ kingdom, with _his_ manservant, and _his_ loyal subjects seemed to like the insolent boy more than their bold, charming, golden-haired prince? He was irritated, but he was royalty after all, and he couldn't be seen throwing a fit about someone else getting all the attention, so he kept his emotions under wraps.

Merlin held out a piece of candy to him, and Arthur shook his head.

"Come on, you prat, you know you want one."

"Princes don't eat candy, Merlin, especially not princes over the age of five."

"No, you're probably right," said Merlin, sounding serious but smirking, "Gaius says too much sugar makes people fat, maybe it's best you avoid it."

Arthur narrowed his eyes and whacked the back of Merlin's head. "I am _not_ fat!"

"Then have a candy!" Merlin grinned at him, and Arthur, who really did want a piece of candy, gave in and accepted one.

"I _suppose_ it's important that I show the people I can appreciate their generosity."

Arthur popped the candy into his mouth and watched as Merlin ate one too and shoved the rest into his pocket. It was strawberry flavored, and quite good. He mused to himself that Merlin knew _all_ of his favorite things, and seemed to know exactly when he wanted them, but until now, he hadn't known any of Merlin's favorites. Of course, that was the boy's job, but Arthur knew they were sort of friends, too, and he was pleased to know a favorite of his servant's. He wondered if strawberries were Merlin's favorite fruit, or if it was just the candy. He was about to ask, but he never got the chance, because they were accosted at every turn by stable boys, blacksmiths, bakers, and numerous patients of Gaius' who Merlin had helped treat.

Everyone they met in the lower town knew and adored Merlin, and it seemed each one of them owed his manservant a favor. He had no idea how Merlin found the time to do something for every stranger that crossed his path, while also helping Gaius and performing his duties for Arthur. It was no wonder everyone was so obnoxiously fond of the boy.

The prince endured another hour of alternating hair-tousling and hair-flattening, claps on the back, gifts of food, and awkward 'Sire's and 'Your Highness'es before his aggravation threatened to overwhelm his princely code of conduct and turn him to a whining child.

"Come on, _Mer_lin, let's go back, if your adoring public can stand to give you up." He said, realizing, a bit too late, that he was already sounding like a prat.

Merlin glanced at him, grinned slightly, and nodded. "Alright, Sire, come on then. It's nearly time for dinner anyway."

They were stopped a few more times on their way in, and by the time they reached the keep, Arthur was in a truly foul mood. He shouted at Merlin to go get his supper, and glared at a group of maids, clearly on their way to the kitchens as well, who had clucked disapprovingly at his treatment of his manservant.

He stalked into his chambers and slammed the door behind him, aware that his temper was getting the better of him, but damn it, why did _everyone_ like Merlin _better_ than him? He spent most of the evening throwing things at Merlin and bossing him around, assigning him more and more extra chores, until finally the servant seemed to be as mad as he was.

"What is your problem, Arthur?" growled Merlin, "You were in a great mood earlier and now you've spent the last few hours being a bigger prat than ever before. What is the matter with you?"

"What do _you_ care, _Mer_lin?" the prince taunted, feeling both viciously pleased and horribly guilty at his own behavior, "What does _anyone_ care, come to think of it? The whole damned kingdom seems to like my _servant_ better than me, their future _king_. Maybe they'll eventually overthrow me and crown _you_ king since they _love_ you so much, wouldn't that just make everyone's lives better!"

"Oh that is just _typical_," Merlin spat at him, "Prince Arthur, Crown _Prat_ of Camelot, can't stand it if someone else gets a bit of attention instead of him. You are such a _child_ sometimes! Well, you'll be glad to know, Your Royal Majesty, that all those favors, all the things I do for them, I do in _your_ name, you pompous arse. 'Arthur didn't need me so he sent me to help out down here', 'Arthur's busy so I've got time to lend a hand', 'Arthur cares about your welfare, that's why I'm here'. I'm _your_ servant, I do all those things to help assure the people's loyalty to _you_! Sure they _thank_ me for it, that's what _decent_ people do, but it all piles on to _your_ reputation. I don't even know why I bother sometimes."

Arthur was horrified. For one thing, Merlin had never really yelled at him like that before, and for another, he never would have guessed that he could be shouted at by a servant and feel that he thoroughly deserved it. Merlin had sounded angry throughout the speech, until the last sentence, when he sounded nothing but beaten down and tired. He was standing there now, arms hanging loosely by his sides, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Arthur could not remember ever feeling so ashamed of himself. Here he was, jealous of the meager bits of appreciation given to Merlin for everything he did, when _he_ should have been the one thanking his servant in the first place.

Merlin was right, he _was_ a prat. He was suddenly seized by a mad idea, and before he knew it, he was telling Merlin, in his most commanding voice, not to move an inch, and striding out the door, struggling to avoid breaking into a run. He hastened all the way down to the kitchens, hoping his servant would listen to him for once and ignoring everyone who greeted him, determined to reach his destination before everyone had left for the night. He was beyond relieved to find the head cook still in there, just banking the fire for the night and emptying the large washtub.

"We're already closed down, you'll 'ave to-" the cook started, clearly thinking Arthur was some servant who was running woefully late. She turned around, saw the prince, did a double take, and started to apologize, but Arthur cut her off.

"Nevermind that. It's... Molly, right?" The cook nodded, speechless, and he continued, "Please, I'm sorry it's so late, I know you were about to head home, but is there any chance I could get some strawberries?"

Molly stared at him, obviously convinced he'd gone mad, but he smiled brightly at her and she recovered enough to say, "Of... course, Sire. How many?"

"Lots?" Arthur said. He knew they were probably a bit difficult to get at this time of year, but he _was_ the prince, and he had been such an arse, it would probably take lots of strawberries to make up for it.

Molly fetched him a heaping bowl of them, and he thanked her repeatedly before rushing back out, thankfully managing to avoid all but a few straggling servants in the halls, and pointedly ignoring the strange looks he got from them. No one was in the hallway outside his rooms, so he jogged the last ten feet, hoping Merlin had stayed.

He threw open the door, keeping a tight hold on the strawberries, and his heart sank when he didn't see Merlin standing where he'd been when Arthur left. Luckily, when he got the rest of the way through the door, it turned out Merlin had only moved, and stood leaning against the wall near the window, gazing out over the city and still looking both angry and sad. He didn't turn when Arthur came in, which suited the prince, because he wanted the berries to be something of a surprise.

He walked over to his servant, standing a couple of feet behind him, and said quietly, "Merlin."

Something in his voice seemed to shock Merlin out of his pout, because he turned around, and when he saw Arthur standing there with the bowl full of strawberries, he looked very taken aback.

"Arthur, what-"

"They're your favorite, right? The candies are, anyway, so I thought... I'm sorry, alright? I know I can be hard to put up with, I know I can be... inconsiderate and spoiled. The truth is, you're the only person that's ever actually been willing to tell me off for it, and I'm... still learning. So I'm sorry, and... thank you, Merlin." He thrust the bowl at his servant, avoiding his eyes by looking out the window. Merlin took the bowl from him, but was silent for long enough that Arthur couldn't resist looking.

Merlin was staring at the strawberries. He still looked a bit sad, but mostly he looked surprised, and pleased. Arthur hoped he felt appreciated, because, even though the prince wasn't always great at expressing it, he didn't know what would have become of him if he had never met the insolent dark-haired boy. He reached out, just like all those people in the town had, and ruffled Merlin's hair. Finally, the servant looked up at him, smiled, and said, "They _are_ my favorite."

Arthur grinned and grabbed Merlin by the shoulder, steering him toward the table and into a chair. The two sat there, much later than they should have been up, eating strawberries together and discussing all their favorite things.


End file.
